


Rocket Powered Crazy

by MyRegardstotheReader



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: A lot of murder, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friendship, Lovers, Murder Mystery, Romance, Violent Death, sneaky people in masks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyRegardstotheReader/pseuds/MyRegardstotheReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Three hours, near past midnight later, on the handlebars of Marilyn’s bicycle, Spencer was home and in possession of a new friend… that he wasn’t sure at all was a good thing." Back then, Marilyn was a bad kid in a bad school who happened to like the thrill of saving boy genius'. Now she's a power hungry, gun toting, rocket launcher enthusiast with military contracts and a black market company. But with the mysterious death of a foreign dignitary, and Reid literally walking into the crime scene, they seem to need each other in order to solve this one. Only... Reid's not sure that Marilyn isn't the unsub. And Marilyn is quiet sure, Reid can never know what she really did after they graduated highschool!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. -The unusual and completely mind blowing start of a slightly psychotic and unforgettable friendship-

**Author's Note:**

> Just so everyone is clear how it is written, for the most part, the first part of the narrative will be of the past, and the second will be of the future. Every chapter will be told from the third person POV of the events, but it will switch from Reid's to Marilyn's every other chapter, but I'll label them. This one is from Spencer's...Enjoy!!!!

“What are you doing?” Spencer heard the voice as he picked his head up from its spot of rest. The ropes burned his skin, but he couldn’t bare to look up at the faces that just stared. They had left, most of which, minus the few footballers who danced and jeered at him. Their silly songs were numb in his ears and his muscles were weak as he shook and trembled against the chill of the goal post. But the voice, he heard it in some weird sort of clarity as he looked up. 

There on the path that wrapped around the field was Marilyn Severs, her brows knitted as she looked to the boys and few cheerleaders. Spencer didn’t know what he hated more, the laughing jock crew, or the disgusted look on Marilyn’s face that was directed towards him.

“What do you want? Freak!” They sneered in her direction, but Marilyn had set her jaw. Spencer could see it from where his fuzzy vision without his glasses seemed to focus as she came charging towards him. Spencer squeezed and held his breath all of a sudden, the dark haired sophomore came whirling up to him in a vortex of hair and dark clothing. She then whipped out a blade and his eyes went wide.

Was this how he was going to die?

“HEY! THAT BITCH GOTS’ A KNIFE!” There was screaming as she looked him in the eyes. There was a blurry movement before him as his glasses came from the ground to his face and then he was fully able to scene before him. Marilyn Severs stood before him, fixing his glasses on his face with her knife pressed between her lips. Spencer didn’t have time to yelp out to her about the line backer that yanked on her shoulder.

“Marilyn! What the fuck are you doing!” He snarled as he shoved her back.

“Fuck off Jeremy!” She snarled back and planted her tiny hands on his chest and shoved him back. 

“Freak! don’t you dare!” 

“Ooooh! Real impressive Jeremy, where did you get that word? One of your spelling tests!” She sneered as she snatched up the rope that held Spencer to the goal post. Jeremy’s hands were large as he reached to stop her, but Spencer felt the wind and the release of his bonds as she ran her blade up the rope and severed it. Jeremy yanked his hands back as Marilyn pointed it at him and lunged at him like she might actually stab him, but she stopped just short. Jeremy whirled around and bolted. 

“HEY YOU! YOU RIGHT THERE!” A teacher was barreling after the crew and Marilyn’s eyes went wide. She turned to Spencer and smiled awkwardly, her braces making it look more like a grimace.  
“Run boy genius!” and with that and her blade slipped into a leather pouch, the girl was gone out towards the outer field and right off school property. Just as Spencer figured, the teacher who came down stopped just short at the look of a naked Spencer and sighed. Fixing his glasses, he yanked the clothes from the teacher’s giving hands and glared. 

“Spencer… come to the office with me.” But he didn’t want to, and he didn’t need to. There would be no justice… there would be no punishment for the WHOLE football team. 

“I have to go.” He mumbled and shoved his boney shoulder past the teacher. They yelled after him to stop but he was more caught up in the anger in his brain, and the shame in his stomach, that he didn’t hear. Only the sounds of his footsteps and his heavy breath as he hiked all the way up the school yard and down the parkinglot. Damn Las Vegas and it’s unbearable heat. His feet burned from inside his shoes that he hadn’t put on properly. He thought of stopping to fix it, but the need to be home more pushed him on.

“I said run… you’re really bad at directions.” Spencer spun to his right as he saw Marilyn standing behind one of the bus stop villa’s, a wicked grin on her face. Spencer rolled his eyes and pressed on. He had far more homework to deal with than to truly download what really just happened.

“Rude, don’t ignore me Spencer Reid.” Marilyn pressed, and this time when he looked up, there she was beside him.

Marilyn Severs was easily one of the school’s worst students. She didn’t turn in homework, she didn’t pay attention, and she once cut a boy on the neck with a school sanctioned butter knife for calling her a name that Spencer didn’t hear. Marilyn wasn’t a bully, which is why they never truly interacted. Despite being in the same year of highschool for two years, his age being significantly less than hers, as she was trully a sophomore, while he looked more like a middle-schooler, they didn’t talk. Marilyn was in detention more than she was in class, she blew out chemistry lab with foam when she didn’t even take chemistry, and she once proved that a mechanical pencil could make a good blow dart. To be honest, Spencer didn’t know why she wasn’t expelled. Oh yeah… her uncle was the principle.

“What do you want, Marilyn?” He grumbled. Not that Spencer really talked to anyone, anyway. He was far too busy, and those who forced their words on him, were never nice. 

“Is it me, or did I just cut you loose from a goal post?” She added with her brow cocked up. Despite her natural chesnut brown hair, she had dyed it all black then bleached streaks that she spent the hours at school colored with sharpie.

“I didn’t need your help.” Spencer spoke softly as if the air in his lungs was tight. Ow, that hurt. He flinched lightly and they both stopped. Marilyn turned and looked him in the eyes. Spencer feared there was pity in them. It was no secret that his life was not exactly easy… but he didn’t need anyone to pity him.

And she looked like she might throw him into the street, perferably in front of a bus. “Do you need a ride home?”

Spencer was taken aback as she grinned a shit eating grin and nodded back towards the street lines. Three hours, near past midnight later, on the handlebars of Marilyn’s bicycle, Spencer was home and in possession of a new friend… that he wasn’t sure at all was a good thing.

 

~~~~Chapter One~~~~~

*Present day*

Spencer Reid had about 30 minutes before he had to be in the building across the street. But, instead of sitting in his chair, finishing up the last bit of paperwork he had left to do, he was here. Eyes rolled far too hard, it actually hurt to open them, as he stood in the mass of people with his hand on his face. 

How had he gotten into this situation? At all?

The phone went of, and with a groan, he flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Are you standing at a crime scene?” Garcia’s voice and clear and bouncy as always. He chuckled as he let out another groan.

“When am I not?” He laughed lightly before he let his hands fall and he threw his head back in another sigh. “My pants are actually being tested for evidence, which is why I’m still standing here.”

“I can see that.” He turned ever so slightly to look at the building that he had fully meant to go into today. 

“How?” He huffed.

“Look lower….lower….there!” His eyes went wide as he saw the team, faces mixes between amused to irritated from the sidewalk from him, behind police tape. How had Spencer Reid really walked right into a murder here in Quantico. Seriously, it didn’t actually happen that often! But here he was, having brains dusted off his pants and EMT’s question him about how he felt. 

How did he feel? Sticky and incredibly unhappy.

Did he see the body? After it hit the ground, yes.

Was he in shock? No, but he was going to be late for work. Thankfully, Hotchner stood just a few feet from him, with his arms crossed and an indescribable look on his face. Maybe he would laugh, chuckle even… or maybe he would look at Spencer Reid and shake his head. He wasn’t sure what to expect from his boss.

“Sir… we’re going to need to talk to you. Privately.” Spencer looked down to find the medical examiners were finally done and he could take his soiled pants back. As he turned to face the people now talking to him, his heart stopped.

As did hers, as for the look on her face. 

“Marilyn?” His voice was tight in his throat as the female stood there before him. She wore jeans and a blouse, dainty blue, and hair pulled back in a very high ponytail. But there was a large...what seemed to be rocket launcher in her hand, and a gun on her hip, a knife poked in her boot.

“Spencer.” She smirked, the same smirk she had back then. But back then, she had a crooked grin and black hair. Now her grin was straight and beautiful, her hair was long and fell to the lower part of her back, and she was twice as scary as she ever was. She shoved the rocket launcher into the hands of a man in a black suit and flung her arms around him. “Some things never change.” He gasped for air.

“Oh… they really don’t.” She laughed as she hugged him tight. Spencer actually allowed himself to hug her back, save for his pants that he tried to keep away from her. He could feel the hilt of some sort of weapon on her back and he was afraid. But when she pulled back just slightly and smiled at him, her face inches from his, he was suddenly ignorant of all the weapons she had on her. 

“Why did you need to talk to me?” He squeaked out as she cupped his cheek with one hand. Then she pulled back and turned from him. “Wait… Marilyn?” But she was already charging away from him and the scene. Her hands were up in a wave, as if barking orders, but he didn’t say anything as she walked away. Clearly in control, as two men, whose hands weren’t full of a rocket launcher, snatched up Reid.

“Whoa! You can’t take him!” Hotchner cried out but by the badges they flashed him, he shut up real quick. Spencer suddenly realized… he was yet again… at the whim of a miss Marilyn Severs, and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel comfortable at all. His eyes shot over his shoulder as they practically called out to Hotch for help, but his boss just watched him in horror as two men dragged him from the street, and towards a large black van. There were more curse words and more eloquent ways to show how he felt, but all he could think was.

“Fuck… fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck”

Spencer Reid was stuffed in the van, and locked into a seat. This was not a good thing… good things don’t stuff you in a black van and put a black bag over your head.


	2. Lunchables do not a quality meal make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Marilyn's pov. In the past, the day after their odd meeting, Marilyn attempts to convince herself and Spencer Reid that they are friends. Because she can not afford not to make better friends. While in the present, Spencer wakes up to Marilyn's house, and she finally clues him into why he's there. Marilyn must solve this murder, and she might have to use Spencer to do it. But does Spencer trust her as much as he used to?

-Lunchables do not a quality meal make-

“Hey Spencer.” Marilyn called as she slipped onto the bench before Spencer. The boy had his lunch out, and was picking at it while flipping through a book. Marilyn wanted him to look up at her, but he continued to ignore her. With a roll of her eyes, she pulled out her food and sat it down on the table.

“That’s what you’re going to eat?” Spencer finally answered. Marilyn grinned as she popped the box open and sent him a challenging look. 

“Why? Does it bother you?” She asked as she picked up one of the crackers and slapped a piece of fake turkey and cheese on it and munched it greedily. Spencer rolled his eyes at her, as she watched him look back down to his book and put another mouthful of trail mix into his mouth. Marilyn scowled as she reached over and stole a piece of chocolate and a pecan from his bowl. Spencer went rigid before her eyes. Marilyn liked the dark look on his face as he looked at her. 

“Yes… it smells pungent.” He finally gave her what she wanted. With a click of her tongue against her teeth, she made another stack of her lunch and ate it. A crinkle of his nose let her know that he hated the smell and what she was doing. A smirk on her face, she watched him with a sparkle in her eyes as he sighed and looked away.

“Seriously? Nothing?” She growled. She did everything people are supposed to. Share lunch time, she came over and sat down. They told her to smile often and engage in conversation. So why wasn’t Spencer Reid reacting to her like a friend was supposed to be. Was it seriously this hard? What did she have to do?

“Seriously, nothing, what?” Spencer huffed as he looked up from his book. “Why are you even sitting here? Wouldn’t you rather be over there with the other hooligans.” 

Marilyn knitted her brow as she cocked her head to the side. “Hoola-what-ti?” She asked.

“Hooligans… rapscallians...bad kids. The others like you.” Spencer groaned with another eyeroll. Marilyn scowled hard as she slapped her hands to the table. Spencer jumped, and she saw it. Fuck. Her teeth gritted and pulled her hand back. 

“Sorry… I’m sorry…” She spoke softly, her face soured but not full of humor and the smirk was off her face now. She pulled back and put her hands up in an apologetic fashion. 

“Why are you sitting here?” Spencer added again.

“Because we’re friends.” She shifted uncomfortably. Her fingers danced over her crackers sheepishly. “Friends sit together.” She added.

“How are we friends?” Spencer asked with a cocked brow, his glasses slipped ever so slightly down his face. Marilyn was up and pushing them back up on his nose for him. Spencer held deathly still as she fixed them on her face, then slowly sat down in her seat. It was cold and hard under her, the fake metal bench seats. Almost as cold as her chest and her heart as she looked at him.

Because she could still see him from the day before. She had just been in her uncle’s office with her father. He threatened to expell her. He threatened to ship her off to some foreign school that made all the kids wear uniforms, and pulling a knife out at anyone would put you in jail. Not that she liked the school she was in, but she had no other choice. Father was livid, and when he was mad, it hurt mother. She couldn’t let that happen again…

So when her uncle said that the best way to stay out of trouble was to make better friends, she took it to heart. Granted, she had friends. Well… sort of. They were friendly. If she wanted to ride her skates at night, there was always someone up for it. She liked the shoot guns and some of them had parents who liked guns. Marilyn liked the thrill of it all, she liked how it all made her feel alive. But when she felt like crying, none of the people she friended seemed like the type to listen. When she wanted to punch walls, sure they’d help her break stuff, but they never understood why she screamed, or why someone like her felt so many pent up emotions. Better friends, they had to be the type to understand.

And when she saw Spencer Reid roped up to the goal post, she knew two things for sure. That the thrill of saving him and threatening Jeremy the football star’s life was well worth any punishment she might get. That Spencer Reid was a better choice for a friend. Nerdy. Boy genius. He was helpless! Marilyn could use a little helpless...and a little help.

“I saved you.” She looked up with a pinch of her face, pursing her lips slightly. Then she relaxed her face as her hands fell to her lap. “and we talked. For an hour, when I biked you home.” 

“When you gave me a ride home… biked isn’t a real word.” Spencer corrected. Marilyn grinned.

“I like when you do that.” Spencer yanked back, his eyes full of confusion. 

“Most people hate when I correct them.” Spencer stood up and packed up his things. Marilyn chucked her half touched lunchable into the close by trashcan and turned back to her boy genius. He was already putting his bag back on his throat and walking towards the west wing of the building. Marilyn scrambled to catch up to him.   
“I’m not most people.” She smirked as she brought herself to his right side, and fell in step with him.

“How cliche’ of you.” He grumbled.

“Cliche?” She asked with a grimace.

“Over used, betraying a lack of originality, Lack-luster due to common use.” He explained. “You and I are not friends.” Spencer added.

“Oh, yes we are.” Marilyn added. Spencer stopped and turned to her, his feet firmly planted firmly. 

“Why would you want to be friends with me? Answer me this?”

“Because you’re a better friend.” She brimmed, as she patted his shoulder, then whirled him around and pointed him towards his physics lab. “Now hurry up, you’ll be late for class and I know how irritated you get when you’re late.” Marilyn bubbled as he huffed and shuffed down towards his classroom. She waited till he was put away fully and then turned herself and nearly skipped towards her english class.

~~~~~Chapter Two~~~~~

Marilyn sat behind her desk as she clicked down on the buttons of her laptop. Her screen flashed a small box on the bottom right corner and her lips curled up. He was finally awake. Clicking her computer shut, she slipped up from the desk and walked from her personal office. Down the hall and through the open door, she stopped just short of the guest bed that Spencer Reid was sitting on, his head in his face. Marilyn had ordered they take him back with her, but he couldn’t know where she lived. Or have anyone follow them. His phone was left at his office building, he was drugged only so gently, and he had a bag over his head.

“Was all of that necessary?” He asked with a groan as his thin fingers rubbed his face back to life.

“Morning to you too, Spencer.” Marilyn spoke softly. She slowly knelt before him and he looked to her. Despite how drained he looked, or how much she knew he wanted to demand answer, he softened his gaze. His hands fell from his face as they fall to her face. Marilyn slowly crept her way between his legs and pressed her face into his hands. Then like they had so often as children, she wrapped herself up into his arms and he pulled her close as well.

“Is it truly morning?” He chuckled as she curled and climbed up into his lap. Her pencil skirt made it a bit difficult, but his laugh at her antics made it worth it. 

“Yes, you slept most of the night away, unfortunately, the boys are always a little heavy handed with it comes to sleeping aids.” She whispered against his shoulder as she held herself there. Then he pulled back and she groaned. Not nearly enough time in his arms, for the length of time they had been apart, it was not enough. “I missed you.” She whispered.

“You could have just called.” Spencer laughed, only to stop when she pulled away too. Back up on her feet, she cleared her throat and patted her clothing back down. She didn’t want to talk about why she never called… and Spencer didn’t push it. “What am I doing here, Marilyn? Why did you kidnap me?”

“It’s not kidnapping if it is legal.” She countered with her hands on her hips.

“You dragged me into a van, put a bag on my head, and drugged me… you kidnapped me.” He retorted with a cocked brow.

Marilyn scowled at him slightly, “You are apart of a murder case now, which is why you’re here.” She waved to the room around him. “Though I don’t usually let suspects in the murder in my house.” With that, she took his hand and hoisted his lanky form up off the bed and onto his feet.

“Suspect?” Spencer let out a surprised noise in the back of his throat. 

“Well… not really the suspect, you couldn’t hurt anyone even if you tried.” Marilyn smirked as she turned and led him from the room. “But until the murderer is in handcuffs, the government is paying me to detain all those connected to the case.”

“Wait… what are you talking about? The body that fell?”

“Oh… you didn’t know who that was?” 

“No, I was just walking when he hit the ground. It made it hard for me to recognize who it was splattered on my pants.” Spencer added as he took his hand back and ran it through his hair. 

“That was foreign ambassador Armen Nervider. He was murdered shortly before his body was dropped from a 17 story building in quantico.” She stated point blank as she stood just inside the door frame. Spencer found himself unable to hold his jaw up as she fixed her hair and blouse that hung deliciously over her frame. Since they had last seen each other, she had changed… throughly. In apperance, atleast. She no longer wore pitch black pants with cargo pockets, or band t-shirts. She was a business woman, with a classic chic style. Minus the handgun that jutted out from her skirt’s belt. Or the knife belt that was obvious against her thigh, something he hadn’t seen when she was in his arms. Marilyn had always been a fan of weapons… but this was extensive and excessive. 

“And you’re keeping me here, because…?” Spencer let the question hang in the air as she smirked at him.

“I was given direct permission to handle and detain all persons related to this case any way I see fit. I promise, I won’t detain you long, just till I know it’s safe for you.” Spencer shivered and Marilyn liked the way he looked confused. For once, she knew more than Spencer Reid. Not that it would stay that way for long. But for the moment, she would devour it greedily. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Marilyn.” Spencer warned as she sighed before she rolled her eyes and leaned her back up against the doorframe. 

“Fine. I was going to ask your help on this one”

“And you couldn’t have just asked?” Spencer asked with a look on his face, but as Marilyn cocked a brow at him, he corrected himself. “Nevermind. What do you have on him?” With her hand outward towards him, he took it gingerly and let her lead him from the room. Marilyn smiled at the way her hand fit with his, and how it felt to feel him close again. How warm his hugs were. Like they had never separated. Heart in her stomach as she opened her office door and saw her reflection in the window behind her desk.

Marilyn knew that she couldn’t tell him. No, he could never know, what she’d done after he’d gone to school. Marilyn licked her lips nervously as she grabbed the file off her desk and handed it to him. “I’ll get your team on skype for you.” She spoke as she walked around the desk silently. 

“Do I even want to know?” Spencer groaned as he sat in the desk chair she gave. Marilyn leaned over him, typing into the computer and relaxing against him as she did. Not even realizing it, but she had one hand wrapped down and hand rested against his chest. His head was rested comfortably against her shoulder as he read and Marilyn let the stab of regret hit her heart.

Their senior year, she leaned over him like this often, reading over his shoulder. And when he went to school, he asked her to come with. Marilyn could have. The idea of following him all the way through school filled her head. But she couldn’t then, and she let the image of her apologizing to him, but sending him packing to school, fill her brain… then she let the image of the blood on her hands because of her decisions fill her mind. 

“No.” She choked out as it began to call and she pulled back. With hesitation, she nearly pressed a kiss to his head, but stopped herself. Instead, she pulled back and walked back around the desk. “No… you don’t want to know.” And with that, she began to skulk her way out of the room.

“Aren’t you going to stay?” Spencer asked as the other side picked up.

“No… I have a lead to follow.” And with that, she shut the door and stalked her way down the hall. Lungs thick, eyes full of fire, she looked to the first guard at the end of the hall. “No one is to bother him… no one is to harm him.” She snarled darkly and the guard nodded.

Then she moved past him and took her dagger from the living room table and stuffed it into the leather strap.


	3. -I see fire… that’s the football field, and swear to some deity you didn’t do it… did you?-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a fire on the football field, that was obviously arson, and Spencer believes it was Marilyn. He's faced with a truth he didn't think would hurt so much. Meanwhile in present day, Spencer must try to explain to his team that he's not afraid of Marilyn hurting him, because he's not. Now... hurting other people... and being a serial killer, he's afraid she's very much so.

-I see fire… that’s the football field, and swear to some deity you didn’t do it… did you?-

It was gym class and Spencer was heaving. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he put his hands to his knees and tried to inhale through them. But they wouldn’t inflate and he felt faint. 

“Get a move on it, Reid!” the teacher shouted from the side of the field, but he couldn’t move his legs.

That was until two arms wrapped around him and hoisted him up off the ground. Spencer squeaked. Then he looked down and to his surprize, or not, it was Marilyn who hoisted him up and began to book it to the other end of the field. The couch was shouting something, but Spencer couldn’t hear it as they came near the finish line and Marilyn all but log threw the skinnier boy across the finish line. Then she came after him, face all red and arms dangling at her side. 

“Reid! Severs! You can’t cheat!” The teacher snarled as he stood over Spencer. Spencer could barely breathe as he heaved and held his chest, his shoulder against the grass. She had tossed him, and the collision with the ground shot all the air out of his lungs. Marilyn, on the other hand, couldn’t look more proud as she stood up.

“You said he had to go over the finish line by himself, said nothing about me heaving him over it!’ She defended, but the teacher was already battering words at a slower human behind the two of them. With the same shit-eating smirk, she grabbed Spencer by his biceps and hoisted him on his feet. He was out of breath and words as she patted grass off his back generously. Then she walked past him.

“Da-mn-it-Ma-ri-lyn!” He heaved as his feet felt like lead. Slowly but surely, he made his way to the benchers where those who had finished the required mileage sat. Marilyn sat on the bottom row with a spot specifically for him. With much other choice, and plans to strangle her, Spencer heaved as he sat down on the bench and gained most of his air back. 

“There you are, thought I’d lost you.” She smugly looked at him as she leaned back against the warmed metal. Spencer glowered at her, but then glared back at the track.

“You threw me.” He wheezed with a grimace.

“I throw a lot of people.” She snickered. “Your point?”

Spencer shot her a look. “You can’t just throw people.” He snapped.

Marilyn looked him in the eye, then nodded. “Okay, noted. Don’t throw boy genius.”   
“No-no, that’s not what I meant.” Spencer sputtered to try and fix it, but she was already grinning and turned to look at the field behind them. Then suddenly, her face was no longer full of humor. The smell of smoke filled their noses and Spencer was forced to turn around as well. Air was tough and black, smoke billowing up from the grass as kids began to scream. 

Children ran from the benches as Spencer Reid was melted to his spot. The whole football field, it was on fire. They were in a drought, the air had been dry and the grass was like paper already. So what would have been a small fire was now an entire field on fire. The fire roared and took up the entirety of the field in seconds. Spencer couldn’t move and found himself being yanked and screamed at.

Finally able to move, he turned and let Marilyn yank him from the spot and towards the gates. “Spencer! Damnit, Spencer, come on!” She was going to yank him away from the fields as teachers screamed for kids to go towards the parkinglot. One of the couches was on the walki-talki already attempting to get the fire alarm set off.When it’s shrill scream broke through the air, Spencer stopped. 

“DID YOU DO THIS?” He snarled as he forced Marilyn to look back at him. She whirled around with wide eyes, she actually seemed hurt.

“Why would you say that?” She hissed over the sounds of other students panicking.

“You have a history of violent outbursts!” He then pointed to the goal post. The same goal post he had been tied to. Marilyn looked at him, unaware of the connection before he bolted. She cried out after him, but Spencer could see it from the benches. He needed her to see it.

On the goal post was rope, rope that had obviously been doused in accelerant. It was wrapped around the post’s base and ran along the field for a bit. It was like a cannon fuse, meant to give a person time to move away before the explosion. And like a cannon, the entire field lit up as soon as the fire hit the bottom of the rope. The way the fire spread, he could see it with his glasses, through the smoke, that the post was the start of the fire and the center of it’s rage. As the flames took up more grass and land to both sides of the post, now the entire field and a field size of lawn to the other side of the post were up in a large flame. 

“Spencer!” She snatched his arm just inside the metal fence of the field and yanked him forcibly back from the flames. “For a boy genius, you’re being REALLY FUCKING DUMB!” She nearly screamed the last part as she pulled her shirt up and over her mouth. Spencer did the same, but continued to point to the post.

“You did this, didn’t you!” He snapped through his shirt as she tried to move him from it. But Spencer Reid planted his feet and refused to move. Marilyn looked at him, shaking her head and eyes already watering from the smoke.

“Why would I do this?” She coughed in her shirt.

“The goal post… it was the start. Someone lit it first with rope and accelerant.” He explained as he pointed through the ever growing smoke. Marilyn forcibly moved him as a wave of fire splashed near their toes. She stumbled back and hit the fence with a groan. It was getting thicker and thicker.

“And why would I do it?” She growled. 

“Because that’s the same post they tied me to!” Spencer whipped around and looked her in the eyes. Marilyn didn’t have to ask him to explain as they looked into each other’s eyes. The warmth of the fire licked their skin as she looked him in the eye.

“Spencer I-”

“I know Jeremy was injured yesterday! I saw it on the school news. He has a broken shin… Alexa Lisben didn’t come to school today, everyone was talking about how someone cut her hair and shoved her into a telephone pole.” Spencer finally confronted her, all the anger pent up in him as the words filled his mouth. It had been a week since the incident and it seemed like all his tormentors from that day were suddenly disappearing. “You have to stop!”

“Okay, Look…. Jeremy wasn’t me! That was Kyle Richman, Jeremy called him a gay lord or something and I watched him beat him with a skateboard. I didn’t do that… Alexa was me. She was laughing about it on saturday, I heard her and rammed my bike into her and I might have cut her hair a little. Nothing bad! But I wouldn’t do this!” Marilyn cried out as she coughed harder. 

“I don’t believe you!” Spencer cried out only to stop as Marilyn grabbed him by the hips and all but spartan tossed him from the fire again, before diving and rolling herself. They rolled down the hill and lay there on the sidewalk path that lead towards the parkinglot. The fields all but cleared of people as the sounds of firetrucks filled the air. 

“Spencer…” She coughed as she scooped herself up off the ground and looked at him. “I’ve done a whole lot of things I’m not proud of.” But as she hoisted him up by his bicep, gentle of the bruise already beginning to form, “But this isn’t and will never be me.” 

Spencer watched as she gave him a grim look and began to walk towards the sidewalk. For a moment he was rooted to where he stood, but something forced him to walk after her. His shoes felt loose and full of sweat as they came up to a crowd full of kids and adults who were more chaotic than the fire. Spencer reached out to stop Marilyn, but she just kept walking and let herself be enveloped in a shock blanket by a teacher. 

For a week she had sat with him everyday at lunch, and she didn’t bring lunchables this time. For a week she sat in the library with him after school, head against the table napping as he read and did homework. For a week she demanded she give him a ride home on her bike. And for a week, Spencer hadn’t minded it at all. It seemed for once she wasn’t the Marilyn Severs he believed her to be. She was a docile creature, no longer a rabid animal foaming at the mouth with a knife in hand.

But then he saw the news and the fire and he couldn’t help it. He knew she had to have done it… because she really wasn’t just some docile person, he knew she had to have done it!

Then why did she looked so kicked when she stood there waiting for him at the front of the crowd. Spencer opened his mouth to apologize, to say he didn’t mean anything he accused her of, when there was a clear voice that rang out. 

“Look, the freak must have done it!” There was a roar of laughter and Spencer recoiled as Marilyn scowled and whipped around. Her mouth open to say something when another voice rang out.

“Must have done it with the boy genius… they’re the perfect freaky pair!” And more laughter rang out. Suddenly, Marilyn was being dragged away by a police officer who didn’t look kindly at her at all. There were hoots and hollers about it as Spencer was wrapped in a blanket and asked to follow the police officer. He wondered why he wasn’t being dragged away. They were both covered in scorch marks, they both had black soot on their hands and face.

Then he realized.

Marilyn was the one with the record, and as the police snarled and pushed her inside, looking to him and waiting patiently, Spencer Reid knew that was why she looked so hurt. Spencer had been just as bad as the police officers, and blamed her immediately. 

 

~~~~Chapter Three~~~~~

“Just hold on, I’m going to-”

“Garcia! Please...stop,” Spencer laughed as he shook his head behind the video camera. It had been three hours of non-stop questions.  
“I can find you and get you back to safety.” Garcia whined as Derek Morgan rolled his eyes from the background and shook his head.

“Momma, please, slow your roll…”

“And Penelope, there’s no use. I’ve already had issued statements from both the Secret Service and the CIA to explain that Reid is safe and in no way in danger. Also, that any attempt to reach him other than by their consent is treason.” Hotch’s voice from the background made Spencer chuckle to himself. Penelope looked down trodden and like her very own puppy had been kicked.

“Guys, I’m safe, I promise. Marilyn wouldn’t hurt me.” Spencer answered. 

“So the rumors are true… you two know each other?” Penelope asked with a pitch in her voice.

“Well yeah, we went to highschool together, she was...well...she was kind of my best friend.” Spencer answered again with a shrug. He slid his hands over his pants and didn’t let out a noise of surprise as he realized he was not wearing his slacks or button up. In fact, he was in fitted blue jeans, his blue jeans from home, and one of his relaxed shirts. Did they raid his closet too? Spencer was going to remind Marilyn once more of personal space, only to shake his head as he realized it was useless. Marilyn could obey social rules as well as Spencer could explain them.

“Kind of?” Morgan asked with a cocked brow.

“Well… she was pretty much my only friend there. Las Vegas public school, most people didn’t like me.” He explained with a shrug as he looked down to the notes on the file that Marilyn must have made. Her scratch was just as illegible as ever, he let out a small snort as he looked up. “Marilyn decided sophomore year we were going to be friends and we were practicably inseparable. Trust me guys, she’s harmless… when it comes to me.” 

“And when it comes to other people?” Hotch as as he slid back into the frame and Spencer grimaced.

“She’s questionable.” He added as he tried to switch the conversation back to the case. They needed to get a good idea of all what had happened, but in the last 30 minutes, they couldn’t let the topic go. “Look, about the-”

“So have you guys been close ever since?” Morgan piped up as he cocked his head to the side to see Spencer better.

“Well, no. When I went to Cal-tech, she went into the military.” He sighed as he let his fingers trace circles along the paper sheepishly. That transition had been on of hellish delight. It wasn’t like he had lost her, like he did family members. No, it was just the last strand he held to his past. Before he was Spencer Reid the profiler, before he was strong, he had someone to be strong for him.

“So you haven’t really been in contact since then?” Garcia piped up and Spencer held his tongue. No need to tell them about the one visit in his last year, no need to bring up a memory he was sure had been a dream.

“No.” He stated. “But I know Marilyn, she profiles like a serial killer, but I promise she isn’t.” He chuckled. That’s when he saw the look on Penelope Garcia’s face that worried him. She looked up from her tablet screen then exchanged looked with Derek. Who then turned to look into the screen with a grim look.

“Get out of there now, Reid.” He warned as Spencer flinched. With a look at them all, he looked up with confusion.

“Why?” He asked, his throat thick with worry.

“You’re not safe there, Spencer.” Garcia whimpered as she began to type onto the keyboard on the desk and in the messanger came files. Reid opened the files with a small twinge of guilt as he felt like he was betraying Marilyn. The last time he jumped to conclusions about her over her record, he ended up hurting her and being the one with mud on his face. Spencer told himself he would never do that again.

“She’s wanted in thirty other countries.” Penelope started. “For murder, on multiple accounts. There are countless sights blaming her for the deaths of multiple people, and she’s connected to a bombing in the middle east, and this is just the stuff I found by basic search!” Penelope defended.

“And a less basic search?” Spencer swallowed hard.

Penelope grimaced as she shook her head. “I can’t, my computer system won’t let me… someone’s covering her up as best they can Reid.”

“Reid, get out of there.” Hotch’s voice was more stern. “I can’t have you dying in the arms of-”

“Guys! Stop!” Reid snapped as he slid back from the desk slightly and took the file with him. “Look, she may be dangerous to other people… but Marilyn would never hurt me.”

“Things change, Reid… and you said yourself you haven’t seen her since highschool. It’s been a long time since then.” Derek defended as Reid smiled softly.

“Somethings never change.” He murmured as he looked to his file.

“What?” Hotch asked from the video stream.

“I said ‘some things never change’ when I first saw her at the crime scene. She told me, They really don’t...guys… I’m going to work with Marilyn on this, you work on your end, and I will convince her to let me go back home. But you can’t attack her. I’ve got to go now” and before there was any argument, he hit the end call button on the monitor and watched as the call went blank. But the files were still up. 

The stories that had a blurry image of her all over them. They never said her name, but it was her, he could see it in the way she stood, the narrow of eyes over grainy picture. The difference between her in highschool and the woman he saw covered in stories of blood and gore, was the apparent preference for rocket launchers. 

Spencer didn’t want to show his team, because they needed to be able to work this without worry for him or his life. Because Spencer worried for that enough as it was. Sure he knew Marilyn would never hurt him… but she would hurt others for him, even if he didn’t ask. Which might be scarier than if she were abusive to him.


End file.
